


Esposas

by Ghost_Blade



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Angst, Bottom!Maca, F/F, Light Bondage, Mild Smut, Top!Zulema, Vis a Vis: El oasis, Zulema’s birthday, gay prison wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:49:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28274868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_Blade/pseuds/Ghost_Blade
Summary: Maca gets Zulema a birthday gift... but things go awry when both have very different interpretations of what the gift means heheA note on the Title: “Esposas” means handcuffs in Spanish and it also means wives... perfect for our gay prison wives I think.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 9
Kudos: 49





	Esposas

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, happy holidays everyone! This work is (finallyyy) done! I had a lot of fun writing it and really liked how it came out. 
> 
> Also there is some light Spanish dialogue, most of it is swearing lol so nothing super important that needs to be fully understood there really. Most dialogue is English. (Rubia means blondie, and tía is used like “dude” in Spain)
> 
> Ps: if you are Maria and you’re reading this: hi! I hope you like my little Christmas gift to you hehe I love you 💕

_“_ Happy birthday _,_ Zulema _,”_ Maca called softly into the RV. No response. Maca hummed to herself, pressing the door fully open and making her way into the living space. She set Zulema’s gift-to-be on the small kitchen table before rummaging through the fridge for a snack. Maca grabbed a cold beer and an apple, relishing in the refreshing coolness of the drink on her parched throat and the tang of the fruit on her tongue. It’d been an even hotter day in the desert than normal, and the trek to the store for _el elfo del puto infierno_ ’s gift had felt like a tedious trip across that very _infierno_. 

Maca eyed the present where it sat on the table, surrounded by dirty plates, a miscellaneous pistol, and a stale glass of water adorned with floating cigarette stubs. She took another long sip of her beer. Even though it was nothing fancy, just a beat-up cardboard box taped shut with a bright yellow bow on top, Macarena was proud of her efforts. She just hoped the yellow bow wasn’t too on the nose. 

As it was, they never celebrated birthdays, let alone got each other gifts. Sure, they’d pick up things from the store for each other all the time, make each other dinner once in a while when a rare stroke of compassion struck. But never something so… sentimental, so intimate. 

With that thought Maca downed the rest of her beer, reaching for a fresh one from the fridge. Her eyes drifted back to the box with its stupid little yellow bow. Sitting there, all innocent, as though it didn’t have her heart, her deepest desires, housed inside. 

“ _Joder_ ,” she sighed, suddenly rethinking everything. It wasn’t as though the gift could be played off as something she’d bought out of necessity. Because what she’d bought, well… Maca felt her cheeks warm and sensed the same heat settling into her stomach. She glared at the beer bottle in her hand, thinking about tossing it aside in case Zulema came back soon. She didn’t want to be caught tipsy, emotional, and bearing a silly gift. Especially not by _her_.

 _“Elfo del puto infierno y mi corazón de mierda_ ,” Maca seethed, shoving her chair back and pushing herself up from the table. She slammed her beer down and snatched the box off the table, marching to the door of the camper and thrusting it open into the bright midday desert. Maca didn’t have a plan, just the sudden impulse to get the gift as far away as possible before Zulema got back. She made it down the steps and onto the sandy terrain. That was as far as she got. 

“Hey _, rubia_ ,” came that infuriatingly nonchalant voice. Maca froze, heart thumping fast inside her chest. A new type of heat surged through her body at the sheer audacity of that woman. 

“Where the hell were you?” Macarena snapped, whipping around to face her. Zulema stood still for a moment, taking a long drag on her cigarette as she took Maca in. Her dark eyes bounced from the scowl on the blonde’s face to the box in her hands and back again, her eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Zulema blew out the smoke filling her lungs with a surprised huff before she strode forward to close the distance between the two of them. She took one last, long drag of her cigarette before she threw its charred remains into the sand, grinding it into the dust under the toe of her black boot.

“What’s this? _”_ she fired back finally, blowing thick puffs of smoke at Maca as she talked. She eyed the box clutched against Maca’s chest with guarded amusement, any original intentions long forgotten. She plucked the yellow bow off the package, smirking as she inspected it. Zulema looked back and forth between the box, the bow, and Maca, waiting. Waiting for a response. As the tense moment stretched out longer and longer, Macarena’s heart sped up and up.

“It’s nothing _,_ stay out of my business _,_ ” she blurted out. Zulema scoffed, raised her eyebrows, then simply snatched the cardboard box from where it sat wrapped in Maca’s arms. She pivoted, stalking determinedly back to the trailer.

“Hey! _”_ Maca fumed, frozen in place by shock.

“Don’t insult me _,_ Ferreiro _,”_ Zulema called over her shoulder as she reached the camper, “we’ve lived together for almost a year,I’ll get involved in your business when I want to. _”_ With that she swung open the trailer door, letting it fall closed behind her. Maca shook herself out of her frozen state, rushing after Zulema. Her steps sent up plumes of dust as she scrambled after the other woman.

“Don’t open it! _”_ Maca yelled after her desperately, muttering curses afterwards as she tripped up the steps to the entrance. She rammed clumsily into the door, pounding on it hard with her fist. Breathing hard, Maca sucked in a deep breath, preparing to berate Zulema again.

“It’s not locked, Maca,”she stated calmly from inside. She chuckled as Maca finally shoved her way inside, keeping her back glued to the door as she did. Zulema sat on the small sofa inside, one of the only pieces of furniture they owned besides the bed, table, and two chairs. 

_“_ Zulema _,”_ Maca puffed, out of breath. She put her hands on her hips. “Give it to me _,”_ she demanded. Zulema’s gaze dropped back down to the box, curiosity written all over her face. In turn Maca’s gaze traveled to the pistol on the table she’d spotted earlier. 

_Desperate times…_

Maca lunged forward, pushing off the door and towards the table, reaching for the gun. Zulema tore open the package at the same time, the box popping loudly as the tape broke apart. Maca jerked at the noise, her outstretched hand missing the pistol and instead sending the pile of dirty dishes clashing to the floor. She froze once again, bent awkwardly over the table, muscles straining. The plates settled, and the ensuing silence was somehow more deafening than the ruckus preceding it. Maca turned her head to look at Zulema, who blinked back at her. The older woman looked back down at the box in her lap, which now sat open. Maca followed her gaze.

Soft yellow tissue paper, the same color as the discarded bow, stuck out from the cardboard box at odd angles. Maca let out the breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She lifted herself up off the table gracelessly as Zulema sat motionless on the couch watching her. As Maca righted herself, the silence was broken by the crinkle of tissue paper. She whipped around to face Zulema and was met with a mass of tissue paper flying at her face. Maca swatted it away, sputtering, eyes ablaze as she glared at Zulema. Then at the box. Its tissue paper protection was gone. Maca was sure its contents were in plain view. They had to be. All Zulema had to do was look down. 

_Has she already looked?_

But Zulema held Maca’s gaze stubbornly, as if she didn’t dare spoil the game. She liked seeing Maca squirm, liked being in control. Making Maca play the game of “will she or won’t she look?” Or... maybe she was equally as scared of the intimacy as Maca was. 

Suddenly a stroke of confidence surged in Macarena. She jutted her chin towards the box.

“Well _,_ look at it _,_ ” she goaded. Zulema hesitated, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. Her gaze didn’t waver from the blonde’s as she adjusted to the power shift. Finally, huffing out a short breath, Zulema dropped her gaze. And that’s when everything went awry. 

Zulema stared at the contents of the box. Maca stood waiting, shifting from foot to foot. She reached her hand into the box delicately at last, narrowing her eyes as she lifted the contents out slowly. Her gaze flicked back up to Maca as she held the gift aloft in front of her, dangling from her hand. Maca gulped. 

“What is this supposed to be? A shitty joke _, ¿no?_ ” Zulema hissed, her gaze as venomous as the sting of a scorpion. Maca blinked back at her quickly, unsure what to say.

“Um-,” she started. Zulema shot up from where she sat on the couch. Her eyes blazed, and Maca stepped back as though Zulema gave off an unbearable heat. She flung the gift at the blonde, the cold metal glinting as it slashed through the air. Macarena caught it awkwardly, fumbling with the gift until it tumbled to the floor and sat between the two women. Maca stared at it for a moment, feeling an icy prickle travel up her spine and into her head. 

“Handcuffs _,”_ she stated matter-of-factly as her eyes stayed locked on the heavy metal _esposas_ between them. Maca looked back up at the other woman, who stood staring at the handcuffs too. Zulema scoffed and shifted her weight, glancing up at Maca with those molten eyes. She turned away, stalking towards the mess of shattered plates on the floor. Maca started after her, stepping towards the handcuffs and grabbing them off the floor. She turned them over in her hands, trying to reconcile the impulse that’d led her to buy them with the embarrassment coursing through her. 

“When do they arrive, then? _”_ Maca jumped at the unexpected interruption, almost dropping the handcuffs again. She looked over at Zulema, who’d grabbed the pistol that still sat on the table from earlier. Her heart skipped a beat then picked up its rapid pace once more.

“Ehm _,”_ Maca replied, eyeing the gun, which Zulema gripped tightly, “who? _”_

“ _Ay no me jodas, rubia,”_ Zulema said dryly, “you really should’ve thought before you acted. _”_

 _“_ Well _,_ I know it was an impulse but I did put a lot of thought into it _,”_ Maca frowned, looking back down at the handcuffs she held. Zulema chuckled icily, moving from window to window of the caravan with the pistol in hand. She glanced out each one before snapping the curtains shut and then going to lock the door. Maca watched her warily, not exactly sure what was happening. 

“Are you serious? _”_ Maca ventured.

“Are _you?_ ” Zulema countered, apparently finished locking down the caravan. She moved to the door, leaning her back against it in a perfect imitation of nonchalance. She let the gun hang down at her side, but the unwavering stare that she shot at Macarena was as deadly as a bullet. The blonde ran her eyes around the interior of the RV before finally meeting Zulema’s gaze. 

“Well _,”_ she hesitated, sucking in a breath. 

_She’s already seen the handcuffs and it seems she knows why I got them… What could I lose?_

“Yes,” Maca pushed out around a sudden burning lump in her throat. Zulema stiffened against the door, the slight crinkle appearing at the corner of her eyes again. She blew out a breath, shaking her head slightly. 

“ _Bueno,”_ Zulema asserted, “you already know that I won’t give in without a fight. _”_

Maca blinked, her eyebrows scrunching together. Before she could think of what to make of the comment, her train of thought was interrupted by the dark-haired woman leaving her post at the caravan door and stalking towards her. Zulema only made it a few steps forward before Macarena started retreating. The blonde read the violent intent written across Zulema’s body and rethought her decisions for the upteenth time that day. Maca took a step backwards for every one of Zulema’s steps forward. It became a delicate dance, each other’s moves dictating their partner’s. Zulema would step forward, Maca would step back; their movements were as coordinated as the push and pull of the tides. 

Maca’s heart hammered fast in her chest, and she was sure her adrenaline-fueled movements were shaky with nerves. Zulema, in comparison, moved with the fluid grace of an experienced hunter. Maca glanced towards the door; they couldn’t keep this up much longer, not in the confined space of the camper. Then her gaze traveled to the gun still gripped tight in Zulema’s hand. She didn’t doubt Zulema’s aim nor her conviction in firing the gun. 

_She would shoot me inside the same as outside… and this game has to end._

The blonde waited until the ebb and flow of their steps led her closer to the door. When the opportunity struck Maca launched herself towards the door, wincing as her shoulder protested at the hard contact. As she pushed futilely at the caravan door, Maca remembered Zulema had locked it earlier. The blonde felt her few-second lead on Zulema dissipate as she struggled to open the door in the dim light of the caravan. And she was definitely aware that her time had run out as she felt the older woman’s body slam into hers, effectively pinning her to the stubborn door. 

Maca squirmed, trying to move her arms in order to unlock and open the door, but to no avail. Zulema’s breath came in sharp pants against her neck, alighting a wave of goosebumps across the blonde’s heated skin. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed you like it soft _,”_ Maca gritted out. 

_If she wants to play like this, I won’t give in easily either,_ she vowed. 

The blonde shifted until she got both palms flush against the door. With a grunt she pushed backwards with all her might, using the unyielding door to her advantage. Zulema stumbled back deeper into the dim cavern of the caravan, and Maca’s momentum drew her along as well. The blonde, however, recovered her balance quicker and lurched back towards the exit. This time she approached it with more precision, and her fingers found the lock much faster. 

Meanwhile Zulema had also regained her balance but where Maca was graceful she was chaotic. She got to her feet and charged forwards like an enraged bull, driving forward with her shoulder to slam Maca into the door again, and hard. This time, though, the blonde had time on her side. She’d disengaged the lock and was just twisting the handle as Zulema collided with her. 

The force of the impact flung the trailer wide open, and open so wide that it slammed into the outside wall of the caravan with a thunderous _CRACK_. The two women were catapulted out into the hot, dry desert. They both hit the sand with a heavy thud, showers of the grit spewing into the air around them like sparks. Maca jumped to her feet, breathing hard. Zulema rolled into a crouch, then plunged her hand into the sand and flung a handful of it at the blonde’s face. Macarena, half-blinded already from the sudden bright light of the sun, sputtered from the assault. She let out a yelp of surprise as Zulema leapt up and sent a strong punch flying at her stomach. 

Maca staggered back a few steps before she sat down unceremoniously in the sand, hard. She coughed a few times, rubbing her now-bruised tailbone before her attention moved back to Zulema, who had apparently not only recovered the pistol sometime since they’d crashed out into the desert but was also seemingly unaffected by the dramatic lighting shift. She leveled the gun at Macarena, and the blonde’s hands twitched at her sides as she fought the ingrained urge to put them up in surrender. Instead of succumbing to her initial instinct, Maca fixed Zulema with a scowl.

“You’re going to shoot me here, with my ass in the sand _?_ I’d expect something more… theatrical from you, _tía.”_

 _“_ Stop with the bullshit and wasting time and tell them I have you as my hostage _,”_ Zulema growled, lifting the pistol to her eye-line to stare down the sights at her adversary. Maca watched tiny grains of sand spill off the gun with the motion. Her brain was still desperately trying to work through what the _hell_ Zulema was going on about. 

_Whatever my expectations were, hostage roleplay wasn’t high on the list._

“But who the fuck else should I be talking to?! I’m only talking to you, Zahir _._ There’s no one else here to talk to! What the hell is your problem? _”_ Maca shot back with as much fervor, starting to get fed up with whatever Zulema was dancing around. Maybe “ _el puto elfo del infierno”_ had truly and finally lost it. 

“Do I have to spell everything out for you letter by letter, _rubia?_ I know you’ve sold me out to the police, honestly I should’ve expected it sooner. Your _regalito_ was a sick little jab though, especially on my birthday,” Zulema spit, baring her teeth in nothing close to a smile. “Like I said, you should’ve thought it out more... now I have an advance warning,” she finished, eyes swirling with a storm of fury. When Maca didn’t respond to her tirade except to blink slowly, Zulema snarled, one of her hands moving from its steel grip on the gun to cock it aggressively. Maca didn’t react to the ever-encroaching threat of lethal violence, just sat in the sand as realization slowly flooded into her features. 

“Police…,” she murmured, then with more excitement, “ _that’s_ why you locked down the caravan! And asked all those odd questions! It wasn’t just some odd form of fore-,” Maca cut herself off, eyes wide, wishing she could backtrack on her words but not knowing how. Zulema, true to form, caught the near slip-up like a shark smelling blood in the water. She cocked her head to the side, her features shifting into a neutral mask unnervingly quick. The dark-haired woman lowered herself down slowly into a crouch, the pistol’s muzzle resting in the sand. Maca sighed deeply, letting the tension seep from her muscles for the moment at least. The threat of violence was gone, but she could spot the threat of embarrassment on the horizon. 

After a few eternities of silence had blown through the desert, Zulema dropped from her tense crouch into a more comfortable position. She settled in for the kill. 

“Maca,” she began, her voice smoothly saccharine, “you got me handcuffs for my birthday.”

The blonde lifted her gaze from where it’d been tracking an ant and squinted at Zulema, though not because of the slanting rays of the sun. 

_Of course she’d choose the path of most resistance,_ she grumbled to herself.

“I thought that’d been established,” she said aloud instead, frowning. 

“...And your motivations had nothing to do with an arrest, _¿no?_ ” Zulema continued, her voice dropping an octave. Maca shivered despite the desert heat and dropped her eyes back to the ant so she wouldn’t have to meet Zulema’s eyes. She had caught a glimpse of a new kind of fiery intensity in the raven-haired woman’s dark eyes, one that matched the own strength of her desire. Despite herself, the beginnings of a smirk edged at the blonde’s lips as she replied.

“Correct,” she stated matter-of-factly, and her voice sounded pretty steady, to her own ears at least. 

“Mhmmm,” Zulema hummed thoughtfully in way of reply, and Maca watched her draw circles in the sand with the barrel of the gun lazily out of the corner of her eye. The older woman refused to say anything more, but Maca could feel that her attention was fixed on the blonde and that her intensity was still there despite her attempt at nonchalance. Macarena risked a glance up, and found Zulema’s eyes boring into her own instantly. Maca swallowed thickly, unable to break the eye contact away now that she’d made the mistake of looking up. 

“So…,” the blonde ventured, unsure why Zulema had suddenly stopped her line of questioning in favor of sitting in the sand in silence. This time it was Zulema’s turn to be the quiet one though, and she just raised her eyebrows slightly when Maca didn’t continue. 

_Joder, tía._

“What do you think about the idea?” she asked, trying to get the other woman to talk.

“I think I want you to explain it to me,” Zulema replied, grinning and eyes flashing. She’d stopped drawing circles in the sand, all of her attention fully on the blonde in front of her. Maca licked her lips, running a hand through her hair. There was no easy way to do this, especially now that it’d been drawn out- though that wasn’t all her fault. Macarena stared at the sand, cheeks aflame. 

“I thought we would- Well, I wanted to try-,” Maca stuttered out, before she snapped her jaws shut. She took in a deep breath. Lifted her eyes back to Zulema’s, told herself to keep them there. 

“Tie me up,” Macarena said. It wasn’t a question. She refrained herself from adding anything more, letting the statement hang heavy in the air between them. Maca watched the bob of Zulema’s throat as she swallowed and a sense of pride came over her. 

_She didn’t think I’d come out and say it_ , she realized, _now she’s the one on her back foot._

With that thought, Macarena climbed to her feet, dusted herself off, and held out a hand to Zulema. The dark-haired woman still had the gun, but she’d lost her competitive edge for the moment. It was Maca’s turn to grin down at her, waiting for the other’s brain to catch up. 

Zulema finally looked up at her, found the helping hand outstretched. She pushed it aside and instead got to her feet with the fluid grace that Maca’d always found so alluring. The raven-haired woman’s eyes danced with something mischievous and bright but her face was set in a stone serious expression. Now she reached for Maca’s hand, squeezing it firmly in her own and she led them back towards the caravan. 

Maca’s heart thundered in her chest. She wondered if it’d ever stopped its frenzied beat or if she’d been too distracted to notice it again until now. Her palm felt sweaty in Zulema’s fierce grip, and her stomach was in knots. She’d been able to remain aloof, close to calm even, with guns waved in her face and the threat of lethal violence. But now, with Zulema leading her into the darkened caravan, both of them with the clear intention of doing something so intimate, Maca was as nervous as the first day she’d entered _Cruz del Sur_. 

As they crossed the threshold into the trailer, she wondered if they’d even be able to find the handcuffs in the dark interior. If the growing heat deep in her core was any indication, Maca didn’t think she wanted to waste the time looking for them. 

Once they were both fully inside, Maca turned and closed the door behind them, flipping the lock. Zulema let go of her hand and when Macarena turned back towards the inside of the cabin, two hands planted themselves against the door on either side of her head. Zulema leaned in, up close and personal, her breath ghosting over Maca’s lips. The blonde bit her bottom lip and reached out with her hands to pull Zulema’s hips in until their bodies were flush against each other. 

“Tell me how long you’ve thought about this,” Zulema murmured, bending in to nip at Maca’s earlobe. 

“So long, I still-,” Macarena trailed off into a soft moan as Zulema pressed her thigh between the blonde’s legs. “-still can’t believe it’s happening,” she finished, breathless. Zulema grazed her tongue along Maca’s jawline, stopping as she got to her lips to kiss them hungrily. Macarena, her hands still on the older woman’s hips, pushed against them to guide the pair towards the bed. Clothes came off, small puddles in their private desert oasis as each woman felt desire pool deep within, building up and up. 

They never did find the handcuffs, but Zulema more than compensated for it. Her strong hands left deep bruises on Maca’s wrists from where she pinned them against the bed and made sure they stayed there.

* * *

  
By the time Maca woke up from her contented doze, she could no longer see light peeking in from around the curtained windows. She rolled onto her side to seek out Zulema, groaning softly as she moved. Her muscles ached in all the right places. When Maca turned she found Zulema already laying on her side, head propped on her hand and those dark eyes gazing sleepily back at her. 

“Hey,” Maca murmured, lifting a hand and running it gently over Zulema’s face, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. A small smile lit up the older woman’s lips, and as Maca pulled her hand away she spoke. 

“This is becoming a habit,” Zulema said softly, her smile growing at whatever reaction she saw in Maca’s features. 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Macarena sniffed. She pushed herself up into a sitting position next to Zulema. “And you seemed to be enjoying yourself quite a bit,” she simpered. Zulema scoffed in response, but her eyes glittered in amusement.

“Well, that’s saying something since your gift was pretty self-serving,” she shot back, rolling up into a sitting position as well. 

“We didn’t even use the handcuffs,” Maca retorted. She narrowed her eyes, a sly smile adorning her lips now. “I guess we’ll just _really_ have to make it a habit and do it again so we don’t waste your gift, huh?”

“See what I mean about self-serving?” Zulema laughed, getting off the bed and walking deeper into the caravan. Maca enjoyed the view, shaking her head softly. 

“Are you going outside to shoot things again like you did after last time?” Maca called after her, only slightly joking, as Zulema got nearer to the door. The older woman didn’t answer right away; she continued to move about the caravan, bypassing the door to rummage through piles of clothes and discarded blankets. She threw on a large shirt and continued her search. Macarena ran her own eyes over the caravan, wondering what Zulema was looking for. She spied the pistol sitting near the sofa, next to a stray shoe. 

“The pistol is over by the couch if that’s what you’re looking for, Zulema,” Maca said, trying to keep any bitterness out of her voice. She shouldn’t have expect someone like Zulema to want anything more than sex. 

The dark-haired woman muttered something back she couldn’t make out, but made her way towards the couch. Maca frowned, getting off the bed as well. 

_Might as well continue about my day too._

She picked up her clothes off the floor, getting re-dressed as Zulema scrounged around by the couch. 

“ _Tía_ , the pistol is right there next to you,” Maca grumbled, letting her irritation seep into her words. Zulema pulled back from where she was searching under the couch and fixed Maca with her own annoyed look.

“Do we need to invest in a gag next, to get you to shut up?” she teased, getting to her feet, “or should I just…” Zulema stepped closer to the blonde, snaking one arm around her waist to pull her close before kissing her passionately. When they both pulled away, Maca’s jaw hung open, stunned. Zulema smirked, nodded, then turned to reach between the couch cushions again.

“Aha!” she exclaimed, turning back towards Maca to show off her find. There they were. The handcuffs dangled from Zulema’s hand, and Maca couldn’t even begin to fathom how they ended up buried in the couch. 

_A lot about today makes no sense,_ she marveled to herself, unable to find any words to speak aloud. When Zulema realized Maca wasn’t going to respond any time soon, she moved closer to Macarena until the blonde was forced to stumble back a step. Zulema continued pushing her backwards in the same way until they reached the bed once more. 

The back of Maca’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, making them give out so she fell back. She scooted further onto the bed instinctively to let Zulema onto the bed, eyes still wide in disbelief. 

_Twice in one day? This is most definitely becoming a habit,_ she thought gleefully. 

Zulema crawled onto the bed after her, opening the handcuffs as she went. Maca lifted her hands up to the headboard for her, earning a smirk from the dark-haired woman. She clicked the handcuffs into place around the blonde’s wrists, trapping them against the headboard. She sat back, straddling Maca, and a gentle smile graced her lips. 

“Happy birthday to me,” Zulema murmured to herself, but Maca’s ears caught the whisper and her own lips lifted into a soft smile. Then Zulema leaned back in, and there was nothing soft about what came next. 


End file.
